


Explaining Mr. Sandburg

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:58:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just what it says.  You have to explain about Mr. Sandburg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Explaining Mr. Sandburg

## Explaining Mr. Sandburg

#### by Tazy

  
The usual. Not mine, just playing with the ideas.  
Another zine story originally written under another name, in my big consolidation project.  
  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Explaining Mr. Sandburg 

"Hello. Mr. Banks? I'm Simon Vrain. I see we share the same first name." 

"Mr. Vrain." Apparently Mr. Banks was not going to let something like sharing the same name engender anything like friendliness. His gesture towards the chair was short and abrupt. Mr. Banks did not offer a handshake or coffee. 

Mr. Vrain sighed inwardly because this did not look like it was going to be an easy interview and because the coffee smelled great. He pulled out a folder from his briefcase and opened it. "Well, let's just get started, shall we?" No reply from the tall dark man sitting silently behind his desk. "Ah. Well, as you know, the firm of Kitterick and Vandenhall have been hired to do a complete survey of the city structure and budget. We're to be looking for duplication of effort which could be eliminated, redundancies, you might say. Also waste and, ah, irregularities. In the end the city of Cascade should have a streamlined, efficient program." The man smiled. 

"And a million dollars out of the budget," Banks pointed out. 

"Well, yes, that's the cost of our service, but I assure you, it will be well worth it to the city. We did this for three other municipalities over a year ago, each of which saved at least twice our fee in the first year, entirely due to following our recommendations. Did you know that merely upgrading the light fixtures in the older buildings can save thousands each month in electricity costs?" 

"Right. They saved money that way. But how about some of the other recommendations? Were the workers or the citizens really better for it? Did you improve things for the common man, or just give administrators new ways to cut budgets?" The questions were asked mildly, but they made Mr. Vrain uncomfortable. 

"It's our job to recommend, Mr. Banks, and to present facts. What the city does with the recommendations is not within our control." 

"Uh huh. Why don't we get started, then. I have a department meeting at ten." 

"Yes, I understand. Well, I have your staff surveys in hand, and I must say, not only were they delivered promptly, they were filled out correctly. In fact, that is why we are starting the survey of the police department with Major Crimes. All the other departments have had their forms sent back for revisions and clarifications." 

Mr. Banks twitched. It could have been the ghost of a smile. Or not. 

"In looking over your documents, a few items have come to our attention." 

Mr. Banks waited. 

"First, there is the matter of your exchange officer. From Australia. Ms. Conner, I believe. According to this, she was due to return to her country years ago." 

"She's a good officer," Banks said. 

"Yes, but surely there are some expenses involved in keeping an officer over the agreed upon limit." 

"Not really. The man she traded with had to come back early. The second man they sent there wanted to do his full year but there was some problem when he married down there, so we sent another man and he wanted his full year. Rather than shorten the exchange for that officer, we've agreed to extra time. We didn't mind because Conner is an asset. She's good. Besides, when she has to go, the price of the ticket comes out of my budget. Ticket prices have been high. I'm content to wait until the year is up and hope the cost goes down a bit by then. Saves the city money," Banks added. 

"Well, yes, I see the logic of that." Vrain made a note of it. "Although the entire concept of an exchange officer program should come under scrutiny." 

"It's been a success for us. Compared to others of similar size, our department has the highest solve rate in the state. Megan Conner has been instrumental is solving three murder cases this quarter. You can see why I want to keep her as long as I can." 

Mr. Vrain made more notes. 

"I see. However, your budget requests for replacement equipment and compensations are also some of the highest in the state." This was said severely, and punctuated with a frown. 

"We're in a dangerous business. Because of our unique position near Canada and the ocean, and as the crossroads location where several major highways meet, it turns out that Cascade is a pivotal location for crime. We also seem to get all the crazies. Somebody told me the ley lines converge here, too, and that accounts for it. I can't say, myself." 

"Ley lines?" Mr. Vrain frowned, puzzled. 

"Would you like some coffee?" Mr. Banks got up and poured them both big cups of coffee. "Sugar or cream?" 

"Uh, yes, please." The coffee not only smelled great, the taste was superb. 

Mr. Banks noted his surprise at the first sip and said, "I buy it and grind it myself. It's not," he added, "done in any way with city money except for the electricity used. The pot was a gift from my son last Christmas." 

"Excellent coffee." 

Mr. Banks expected nothing less and only nodded a touch regally and took a sip of his own dark brew. 

"Well. To go on. I'd like to bring up the matter of the chaplain." 

Banks nodded, but said nothing. Mr. Vrain took another deep drink of his coffee and said, "There seem to be some irregularities in the matter of the chaplain." 

"Oh?" Mr. Banks said. 

"Would you mind explaining how Major Crimes ended up monopolizing a police chaplain? Not to mention some problems recorded which seem connected to the chaplain's duties?" 

"It's a long story," Mr. Banks warned. 

Mr. Vrain smiled patiently. 

"There was no money to hire the consultant we wanted--and desperately needed. The mayor said if I wanted my consultant, I had to find the money somewhere. There was no city money at that time, but I found some funds available privately. It was money for a chaplain, available because of a bequest from the Lorentino family back at the turn of the century. When the 19th turned into the 20th century, I mean. All the money from that estate went into a trust fund to provide a chaplain for the fire department and another for the police. They were to be paid the same as an officer, and were to see to the spiritual health of the department. The fire department has Father O'Malley. Do you know him? Very nice man. Elderly." 

"I've not yet had the pleasure," Mr. Vrain murmured. 

"He's an interesting old man. Lives at the main fire house and rides to all the fires on the main pumper truck. Has his own helmet and gear and everything. He doesn't actually fight the fires, he takes care of the victims and the firefighters. He also helps put people in touch with the right social agencies when they've lost their home to fire." 

"I see." 

"Traditionally, one of the chaplains was Catholic and one Protestant. The last one the police had retired in 98 and we had trouble finding a replacement. You see, applicants fill the spot for a month, and then the department votes. Takes a two thirds majority to vote one in permanently." 

Mr. Vrain nodded and took another sip of his coffee. "As I understand it, you current chaplain, Mr. Sandburg, was voted in without serving this one month apprenticeship." Suspicion laced his tone. 

"True, but he'd worked in various capacities around here for a few years. Everybody knows him. He was voted in properly." 

"I see." 

Mr. Banks ignored the doubt he heard in the other's voice and said, "He does an excellent job." 

"Then he is not a police officer." 

"Not precisely. He could be if he wanted to be. He went through the Academy since he became chaplain. His marks there were extremely high." 

"Ah." 

"Except for the marksmanship scores, but frankly, we weren't too worried about how well the chaplain could shoot." 

"I suppose not. May I ask-what denomination is Mr. Sandburg?" Mr. Vrain sipped again. 

"He's a Shaman." 

"A....shaman. Perhaps you could explain that?" Mr. Vrain wrote another note and after a moment he put a star by it, his pen crossing over the lines again and again. 

"Well, he's studied all the world's religions. He got special training in South America. Was mentored by an primitive tribe there, I understand." 

Mr. Vrain managed not to spew the coffee across Mr. Banks desk. He inhaled it up his nose instead. It took a few minutes for the choking and snorting to subside. Mr. Banks very kindly got him a tissue. "He's a...witchdoctor?" Mr. Vrain managed to ask, horrified. 

"Oh, no. Don't let the stereotypes defeat you, as Sandburg once said. He's's a tribal spiritual leader, not that mumbo jumbo stuff." 

"How in the world are you allowed to have a...a shaman as a chaplain! Surely Mr. Sandburg...." 

"You were expecting me to say he was Jewish, weren't you? It's the last name. And he does represent the Jewish minority, too. You see, What we discovered when we first looked into this was that the face of America has changed. People no longer fit into the same little compartments that they did in our father's time. The police department currently has about half the members affiliated with what I would call the major religions represented in our country. But there are another half who belong to what might be called minority religions-or none at all. Mr. Sandburg was trained as an anthropologist and understands a great deal about religion and world beliefs, and so he has been able to represent and help those who are Islamic, pagan, Hindu, or whatever. And he also seems to have a good relationship with those who have no affiliation at all." 

"How very strange." 

"No, it works out quite well. Oh, and we have an agreement with the fire department. The chaplains trade services and help each other out. I understand Father O'Malley was actually quite relieved to pass some of the duties to a younger man." 

Mr. Vrain finished his coffee in one big gulp. 

"You see, chaplains duties have evolved. Some of what they used to do has been taken over by psychologists and other mental health providers. Grief counseling, for example. Now our chaplains spend a lot of time making sure that obstacles to the smooth running of the department are dealt with. Such as some personnel conflicts. Our chaplain also helps in very practical ways. Mr. Sandburg will look over paperwork if an officer requests it, make sure it is all in order, nothing forgotten. I'm sure he's the reason our paperwork was first on your desk. He's quite knowledgeable about the rules and regulations. Sometimes goes with rookie officers to their first court appearances. He's even done some relationship counseling. Partnerships are like marriages and sometimes the officers need help getting along." Mr. Banks stood up. "More coffee?" 

"Uh. Yes. Please." 

Mr. Banks filled the cups generously again. 

Mr. Vrain held the cup between his two hands as if warming himself from it. "What I don't understand is why the man is here. Apparently assigned primarily to Major Crimes. He has a desk here." 

"Well, yes. I think he's needed here most. The crimes we deal with are major, as the name implies. We do tend to monopolize his time. Truth to tell, Mr. Vrain, our chaplain is a fine student of human nature. Often, victims or perpetrators will confide in him at the crime scene, and he is one of the reason's for our high solve rate. I have to confess, we hog up more than our share of Mr. Sandburg's time. Look at the figures. The number of police hired by this city has doubled in this last decade. Our city is bigger, and the crimes are more numerous, and we need more cops than we have. And we are still making do with just one chaplain. We could use a dozen more Mr. Sandburgs. The stress of this job-and that of firefighter-can't be over- emphasized, sir. We need all the help we can get to make sure our men and women stay sane and functional. The poor man is run ragged." 

"I had no idea a chaplain had that many duties." 

"Not to mention he's the one a lot of the officers request when they get married. He even officiated for one of our clerks in the parking garage where she and her husband met. Weddings are usually on a weekend, on his own time. And the fees he gets for that he donates to the Cascade homeless shelters and other charities." 

"My," Mr. Vrain said weakly, taking another gulp of his coffee. 

"Plus he is on all the committees. Parade committee, Break Room committee, all that. The only thing he hasn't joined is the union. He says it might be a conflict of interest. Helps with all their fund-raising drives, though." Mr. Banks looked up at the clock. "Oh, I've got that appointment. But I tell you what, Simon. I'll have my secretary go over and introduce you to Mr. Sandburg. I'm sure he can tell you just about anything I can, anyway. Department couldn't run without him. Spend the morning with him, if you like, see what he does. Thank you for coming," Mr. Banks said, and held out his hand. They shook hands again, and then Mr. Banks handed the man over to his doom. 

* * *

The mayor dropped the two inch thick binder on her desk. It landed with a hollow thump and caused most of the people in the room to jump. "Have you read this?" she demanded, knowing quite well it had crossed her desk first and she was probably the only person who had time to read it cover to cover. 

"I haven't finished yet," her deputy said cautiously. "But, I thought it seemed practical, what I read of it. I think the power plant suggestions are superb, and I liked the figures they collected on the insurance question. That's the place where the expenses are killing us and they suggest several alternatives to self-insurance, which I thought was our only option. The..." 

"All of that is fine. Most of this is fine. We'll be able to save at least as much as this stupid survey cost us, thank god. What was the city council thinking when they voted for this? But, some of these recommendations! More bathrooms in the municipal buildings? Suggested cost of one third of a million dollars! I think we can bury that one. And did you see this? A suggestion that we apply to the Lorentino family and ask them to double the number of chaplains assigned to the fire department and the police department. And then the suggestion that we look into chaplains for several other departments! I mean, chaplains! I'm not even going to go there. The religious right will want their people in and the atheists will speak up against it and how the consultants think _chaplains_ will save money I don't know!" 

The deputy spoke up, "You're right. But hell, let's just do the easy part. It will cost almost nothing to apply to the Lorentino Fund for more chaplains for the police and firefighters. We _have_ had an increase through the years in both departments, after all. It will look good that we followed that recommendation and we can play it up in the press. Call it an assistant for each of the chaplains, right? Probably get turned down anyway. I'll take care of the paperwork on that for you." 

"Thanks. What?" she turned to a young man who had hurried up and was now waiting for her attention. She promptly forgot about chaplains as someone brought up the problems with the new sewage treatment plant. 

And that is how Major Crimes finally got a chaplain of their very own assigned to them, which considering that they'd pretty much hogged up the chaplain for years, actually did not change much of anything at all for them. The rest of the police department didn't get an anthropologist-shaman, they got a Methodist, but she was almost as good as Sandburg with counseling and she wrote a mean grant. The fire department, on the other hand, tried out three or four applicants and finally ended up with an overly sincere, recently graduated English major with an anthropology minor who, realizing he needed a religious affiliation to apply for the job, apprenticed himself to Mr. Sandburg. The long term effects of this really weren't Sandburg's fault, he didn't mean to do it. The religion really didn't take off until quite a few years later and it snowballed rather quickly into a national movement. 

Simon Banks always blamed Mr. Vrain for the whole damn thing. 

* * *

End 

Explaining Mr. Sandburg by Tazy: alihotsy@gimmefic.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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